


hold on tight and don’t look back

by gottabewhatomorrowneeds



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Mortality, Pre-SING (Music Video), contemplations over the morality of letting four teens die for a child.........., i genuinely don’t know what to tag this as, the Fab Four are teenagers......damn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25297210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottabewhatomorrowneeds/pseuds/gottabewhatomorrowneeds
Summary: Jet Star and Party Poison share one last conversation before solidifying the fate that awaits them within the walls of Battery City.They’re just teenagers.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 20





	hold on tight and don’t look back

  
"Scared, huh?"

Jet Star glances up.

It's night time now. The stars that manage to pierce through the thick and polluted atmospheric veil twinkle and bounce off the window Jet's sitting next to. He's curled up in a booth, unable to sleep, feeling far too restless to rest but far too tired to do anything productive in his (last few) waking hours, so he's just sitting there against the cold glass, trying to keep quiet and calm.

"Are you?" Jet Star counters.

"Of course not." Party Poison slips into the seat across from Jet Star, who rolls his eyes at both their response and the fact that they're keeping their distance. Jet Star scoots out of his seat, causing Party Poison to watch them quietly with an unreadable expression. Jet Star then proceeds to sit right next to them, scooting as close as possible. Poison's always been a bit hesitant about initiating contact, but Jet's never afraid to do so. 

Honestly, it's for the best. Jet Star's been developing a bit of a chill from sitting by the window, and Poison's always been known to run way too warm. Kobra always jokes that they're just so angry the fires of their wrath constantly simmers beneath their skin like magma. Jet isn't really sure what magma is. But Poison's heat makes them great to be next to during these frosty nights, though absolutely miserable to be by during the heat of the day.

"Seriously, you're not scared?"

"I'm the one who suggested the whole mission." Poison shrugged. "Hell, I was the first one to demand that we all go on this suicide mission."

"You can still be scared."

"And you are?"

"You know I am."

They had that mission debrief, not so long ago. They just formulated the plans to break into Battery City to save the Girl. Suffice to say, it's a pretty sparse one, but the gist of it is that they're going to have to break into the giant BLi HQ smack in the middle of the city. They don't have the time or resources to try and sneak in, so tomorrow afternoon they're going to go in the city, guns blazing. They're not really expecting to survive.

Party Poison was the first one to suggest it. They all wanted to save the Girl, of course, but they all wanted to try to think of a plan where at least half the team will come out of it alive. But they didn't have the time. The Girl is already suffering every minute they waste, so they can't spend any more days debating over the minute details over how they could theoretically survive.

It's the only way to save the Girl.

And Jet Star won't lie, he tried to fight tooth and nail against this plan. When Poison first suggested they just break into Batt City guns blazing, Jet Star struck it down without much thought, and continued to argue with Party Poison for the next three hours.

Call him selfish, but Jet Star wants to live. He’s only nineteen, and he doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to let his light go out so fucking soon, not when he’s survived so much other shit. Jet Star wants to survive.

But the fact of the matter is that every minute they waste, the Girl suffers. And Jet Star would never be able to live with himself if he let the Girl be tortured or re-educated or slaughtered by BLi. Eighty more years would mean nothing if it meant the Girl only got to live six.

So Jet Star eventually said yes. And once Jet Star finally agreed to the mission, Fun Ghoul and Kobra became silently resigned to their terrible fate, and they were able to formulate a plan.

And they were supposed to enact that plan tomorrow morning.

“The Girl deserves to live,” Jet Star quietly whispers. “I know she does. And I’d trade places with her any day. I don’t want her hurt. She’s more than a little sister to me. But god, I don’t want to die.”

Poison remains quiet for a few seconds, glancing out the window. There’s a pensive expression in their face, and they tap their fingers silently against the table. 

Poison doesn’t ever seem to contemplate much. They are an honest to god airhead sometimes, and they won’t hesitate to say what’s on their mind. But there are things they keep close to their heart, cards they won’t ever share. And Jet thinks he might become privy to the fact there’s not always an ace up their sleeve in these next few moments.

“You don’t have to go.” Poison glances back at Jet. There’s a fire burning in their tired eyes, smouldering.

“Huh?”

“None of you do.” Poison stops tapping. Their attention is placed directly on Jet Star. “I can do this alone. I’ll break in and save her myself. You guys can stay here.”

“You know damn well that won’t work.” Jet Star rubs his head. “Even with four of us it’s not likely that any of us will make it out alive. Poison, you’ll end up dead before you even reach the Girl.”

“I don’t want you guys to do this because like, it’s an obligation.” Poison huffs. “I’m not wording this right. I just don’t want you guys to die if you don’t believe in what you're dying for. I don’t want you to just… take your fate resignedly. You don’t have to do this. It’s a choice.”

“And I choose to go down with you, even in a hail of bullets. So does Kobra and Ghoul. We already established this Poison.” Jet leans on his elbow. “Unless you’re having doubts?”

“Of course not. I’d die a thousand deaths for the Girl, if it meant she can have another few minutes of life.” The words are steadfast, not even a shred of hesitancy. 

“You know, it’s okay to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“You can be, though.”

“I’m not.”

Jet Star sighs. “Who are you trying to convince here?”

Poison blinks, then lets their eyes slide away from Jet. It remains quiet between them for a little while, and that’s fine with Jet. He’s used to Poison and their antics, he’s used to their denial of feelings. They’ve only been friends for years now.

“I believe in this mission,” Poison begins, carefully. They’re picking out their words now, hesitant. “One hundred percent. The Girl is important, I know this. And even if she wasn’t, I’d still kill myself for her. She’s our little sister. She means the world to me, to all of us.”

Another lapse of silence. Poison stares at their hands clasped tightly on the table. Jet can’t remember the diner ever feeling so small and quiet.

“I love her. I really do. I’m not afraid to die for her. But I also love all of you…” They trail off. They rub their nose and finally, they glance back at Jet Star. "I just... am I making the right call? Going on this mission... is it the right thing to do, knowing that we're all going to die? Is it fair to ask all of you to die for her too? Is it fair for all of us to die so goddamn young?"

It's a fucked up situation they're in, precarious and subject to change for the worse if they don't act. BLi has the Girl, and Witch only knows what they plan on doing with her. They know just as well as the Fabulous Killjoys do that she's special, and they could try to kill her. If they wait, it could mean damning the Girl, who's the only chance this desert has for salvation.

Jet Star doesn’t answer them, because he has no answer, because there is no answer. 

"I'm only seventeen," Poison whispers. Their voice is fragile, frail, shaky- words Jet Star never would have associated with Party Poison.

Because they are only human, and Jet Star has seen them stumble before. They can feel emotions, of course, and they can be vulnerable and scared. They're just a fucking kid, just like Jet Star and Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid. They're not perfect.

But it's just so difficult to see Party Poison as anyone but their suave, flirtatious, and terrifyingly sharp leader. It's hard to see them as anything but this witty spitfire who always manages to face down danger with a quip on their lips and a fire in their eyes. Jet Star's seen them stumble, seen them at their ugliest when they first came out of Battery City and was trying desperately to rectify every single mistake they've ever made. 

But that feels like a lifetime ago. And seeing Poison now, fragile, afraid, vulnerable- it's such a sharp turn from the false infallibility they like to parade. Party Poison is an actor, and in this quiet moment, they’re letting themself break character.

Jet doesn’t say a word. He lets Party Poison figure everything out themself, lets them finally tear down their own walls. They only have so many more hours to live, and Jet thinks Poison realizes that, too. Might as well let those last few hours be real.

"I don't want to die." Poison grips the table, their knuckles paling as they keep it tight. "Isn't that so fucking selfish of me? Isn't that awful? To be doubting this fucking mission just because I can't bring myself to die?"

"It's perfectly normal to be afraid of dying," Jet Star begins, quietly. "That's the reason I didn't want to agree to this plan. Because I'm afraid of it, too."

"We're about to become martyrs," Poison states, huffing out a laugh with little humor. "Is that how you saw this ending? Because I never did. Though maybe I'm being too optimistic by calling us martyrs."

“I didn’t think we’d end up dead so soon.”

Poison laughs, humourlessly. Jet can see the tears in their eyes, desperate to be released, but they’re still trying to keep it together. “I figured I’d be dead by twenty five, yeah. But I thought I’d at least see my eighteenth birthday.”

Jet Star always forgets Poison's so fucking young. They hold themself so high, with this air of unshakeable confidence and they have this bizarre wisdom at times. Jet Star forgets they're just a scared seventeen year old.

They're all young, there's no question. Jet Star's nineteen, nearly twenty, but if they go on this mission, he definitely won't see his twentieth. Kobra's on the cusp of turning nineteen, and Ghoul's only recently turned eighteen. Poison's only seventeen. They're all just children, just a bunch of teenagers with a vendetta, but it's a frightening realization that when they all die, Poison really will still be just a kid. They all are, really.

Poison rubs their nose. “It’s dumb. We were never meant to last, anyway. I’m glad that we’re dying for something- someone important. I don’t…. I don’t care that I… that I…. I don’t care. I’m ready to die.”

“You don’t have to be brave, Party Poison.” Jet Star places a hand on their shoulder. “You don’t have to look death in the eyes and give some cocky quip before you die. You don’t have to die with dignity. You don’t have to be resigned to it. It’s okay to be human.”

Quietly, Jet Star places a hand on their face. Those tears are threatening to fall now, like acid rain storms on the verge of letting loose pellets of metal corroding rain drops. He tilts their face to look at him, because he wants them to understand the sincerity he’s giving them.

“It’s okay to be afraid.”

Poison stares at him for a few moments. It’s utterly, utterly quiet in that moment, like the entire desert is holding its breath in anticipation. 

Silently, the tears begin to drip down their cheeks. 

Party Poison isn’t a loud crier, like Fun Ghoul. They don’t make a scene. In every other regard in their life, they are the definition of loud and obnoxious. They scream while shooting Dracs. They don’t know how to whisper. They yell loudly while playing card games. They cackle sharply. They play their music way too loud. They stomp when they are angry.

Now, Party Poison is deathly silent as tears stream down their cheeks.

Jet wipes them away wordlessly. His thumb brushes aside the stray tears, and Poison takes in deep, deep breaths. 

“I don’t want to die,” they repeat, in a voice more fragile than glass. They crack a bit, and they let their gaze drop to Jet Star’s chest. “I’m only seventeen.”

“Everybody wants to change the world,” Jet begins, softly. “But no one wants to die.”

“We’re just kids,” Poison whispers back. “We’re going to become the kids of yesterday. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be forgotten. I don’t want…”

Poison’s voice cracks and sharply halts. They wipe their own eyes, trying to keep themself composed, but failing miserably as they shake. 

“I don’t want to die.”

Jet Star pulls them into his arms, pressing tightly against them. They bury their face in the crook of his neck, and Jet Star feels their tears. They shake in his arms, but they don’t make a single sound.

He knows that in a few minutes, Party Poison will pull away from him, wipe away their tears, and continue being the brave face they need to boost morale and confidence so they can pull off this mission. They’ll be the anchor needed to keep them all from diving off the deep end. 

In a few hours, they’ll drive to Battery City. They’ll march to their graves, and hopefully, they’ll save the Girl and the Girl will save everyone. Or they’ll fail horribly and they’ll die for absolutely no reason.

Hope is dangerous. A killjoy that relies only on hope is destined to crash and burn. The reality of the world is simply that everything is fucking terrible, that the fleeting moments they spend will mean nothing to the universe. Their lives are blips in the grand scheme of fate.

There’s no possible way they can survive. And it’s honestly not probable that the Girl will, either. All they can do is try. All they have is their bodies and souls and will to at least try.

Jet Star doesn’t hope. He doubts Party Poison does either. “All that matters is that we try.”

“We won’t win.”

“We don’t have to.”

Poison pulls away from Jet Star. They watch watch other for a few minutes as their tears dry, as the desert remains eerily quiet.

“No, we don’t.”

Poison leans against him. Not another word passes between them. For the next few hours, they spend their last few remaining hours in each other’s company.

Poison will slip on their brace face when Ghoul and Kobra stumble out, equally sleepless. They’ll all check over their supplies, check their ray gun batteries, say a few last ditch prayers, and then they’ll be on their way to solidify whatever fate awaits them.

But for now, they simply sit there in that diner. BLi can take everything they have, all their souls and bodies, their flesh and bones, but they can’t have these moments.

(Party Poison doesn’t die with a quip on their lips. They stare Korse in the eyes, and there’s a terror chilling their blood and bones. They’re afraid. They can’t be that cocky, suave hero. And that’s okay.

Jet Star dies sprawled on the trans am, and when he dies, so do the Fabulous Killjoys. He dies with hope for the Girl, for the future that will unfold without him. 

BLi steals their last moments. They don’t steal the moments that matter.)

**Author's Note:**

> :(
> 
> idk i don’t like how i ended it


End file.
